


Compulsion

by flowersforgraves



Series: BTHB [39]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Employer-Employee Relations, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Fist Fights, Manipulation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Four TMA fills for BTHB.Ch 1. Martin tries to deescalate a situation, but Elias has been in control the whole time.Ch 2. Tim and Melanie pick a bar fight.Ch 3. Tim and Jondon'thave a conversation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HotGoatCheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotGoatCheese/gifts).

> Card: [here on Imgur](https://imgur.com/VtOGzNh) // List of claimed prompts: [here on Tumblr](https://flowersforgraves.tumblr.com/post/184817489731/)
> 
> Prompt me via Dreamwidth or Tumblr!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from HotGoatCheese: grabbed by the chin + Elias/Martin

"Get _out_!" Martin yells, eyes wild with a dangerous cocktail of fear and anger. "Elias! Stop!" He's shaking, but that doesn't render him any less serious. In fact, Elias muses, the passion is a sign that Martin is more serious than ever before. He's hard and sharp in a way he has never visibly been before; whether the change comes from exposure to the truth of the entities or if Martin has always been angry matters little. Elias is interested anyway, to see whether there was a change or if Martin's defenses were merely stripped away. 

But Martin, no matter how serious or intense, has failed to account for power. Conviction and emotion won't make up for the fact that Martin doesn't know how to command someone the way Elias does, the way the Eye lets him. He doesn't even have the seed of power growing in him the way Jon does, turning him into the Archivist. It's nearly certain that Martin will never have that kind of power -- he is too stubborn, not the right sort of person to become an avatar of the Eye.

So Elias decides to play with him a bit. The Eye is fear just as much as any other entity -- and Elias is a faithful servant to his god. Feeding off statements is all well and good, but sometimes he craves some more active sustenance. Martin, already touched by the Eye from the second he'd been hired, is a much better source than a random passerby on the street. 

Elias stops. He stops and holds Martin's gaze, because Martin doesn't understand how the powers the Eye grants work, and he smiles. "Now, Martin, is that any way to talk to your boss?" He forces disappointment into his tone, covering the glee. It's almost adorable, that Martin thinks he has any measure of control.

"Shut up," Martin spits, but there's less venom now that he thinks he's deescalated the situation. 

It takes only half a heartbeat for Elias to cup Martin's jaw with his palm, and another half to tilt the man's face down. Sometimes Elias resents being short; this isn't one of those times. Martin's pupils are dilated, breath sounding loud in Elias' ears while he maintains eye contact.

"Don't speak to me like that again," Elias says pleasantly, velvet glove over iron fist, imbuing the words with just a thread of compulsion. "Do you understand me, Martin?"

He's fighting it, harder than Elias would have thought. That's not worrisome, yet, but it does mean Martin might remember being forced. So he applies a bit more force, digs his nails into Martin's skin. "_Do you understand_?"

"Yes," Martin grits out. He's still angry -- good, there's still more left in him. Elias doesn't want to break any of his other assistants just yet, not until after Jon's power grows much stronger.

Elias lets his hand linger on Martin's chin several moments longer than necessary. They both know it's a threat, but there's no need for words now. Elias just smiles, and enjoys Martin's discomfort.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from HotGoatCheese: broken nose + Tim & Melanie

Melanie slams the door shut, taking deep breaths to calm down. When she finally turns back around, Tim's sitting at her desk, completely nonchalant. "What the fuck do you want?" she snaps.

"Want to go get drunk and pick a fight in a bar?" Tim asks, completely ignoring her anger, arms folded across his chest.

"Now?"

Tim shrugs. "Why the fuck not?"

"It's still working hours," Melanie points out, but she's already grabbing her jacket and cell phone. "Elias --"

"Elias can go fuck himself," Tim says, vicious in a way that shouldn't surprise Melanie but does anyway. "What's he going to do about it? Fire us?" 

She snorts, echoing his hollow laughter. "Good point. Let's go." 

They find a pub neither of them have been to before, the kind of run-down place that's been open since noon and has carpeting on the walls. Melanie pushes the door open, and the quiet hum of chatter dips to a murmur. She doesn't hesitate, just stalks over to the bar and says, "Give me the cheapest whiskey you've got. On the rocks."

Tim comes up next to her, mutters, "Make it two," and elbows her hard in the ribs.

She pushes back, then drinks the glass the sullen bartender has brought over. It really is cheap stuff, and it makes her nose burn with the sour permanent-marker stench of it. But that's what she wanted, that and the alcoholic warmth currently settling into her stomach. She hasn't drunk straight whiskey in a while -- beer is more her speed, usually -- but that only means the alcohol kicks in faster. 

Tim shoves her again, hard enough for her to bump into the patron next to her. He happens to be a big, burly man, probably in his early forties, and looks like his muscles come from hard labor rather than the fitness center. "Watch where you're going," he snarls, and Melanie can smell the alcohol on him. "I don't want to have to hit a girl."

Even without the added incentive of blowing off some steam, that comment would have pissed Melanie off. As it stands, she doesn't bother with a verbal reply. The heel of her hand impacts his jaw, hard enough for the click of his teeth to be audible, and he falls backwards, stumbling into a table.

"Hey!" The barkeep tries to keep order, but it's too late. Every patron is on their feet, and Melanie fends off a counterattack from the first guy. 

The next few minutes are a blur. She remembers kicking several men in the balls, remembers someone screaming_ I'll fucking kill you_ \-- and it's only later that she realizes it's her. Tim is at her back the whole while, stumbling backwards into her sometimes, keeping her upright other times. 

The reason it stops is, plain and simple, fear. Not the kind of fear that Melanie and Tim are all too familiar with, thank fuck, but the barkeep's threats to call the police eventually reach enough ears to quiet the ruckus. 

"Out," the barkeep orders them both. "Pay me and leave." 

Tim tosses twenty euros onto the bar as they leave. "It's on me," he tells Melanie. "Keep the change," he adds over his shoulder.

Outside, Melanie blinks hard as she readjusts to the sun's presence. "Thanks," she says, and her voice sounds off.

"You took a pretty big hit," Tim says. "You're okay?"

The pain hits her like a wave breaking over the shore. "Oh, _fuck_," she says, and realizes the blood down her shirtfront is almost all hers. "Oh, fuck." She brings a hand up to her face, gingerly feeling around to see if her nose is broken or just bloodied. "It's definitely broken, Tim."

"Shit," Tim says. "What do you -- want to just fix it now, or come over to my place to fix it?"

"Why the fuck not," she says faintly. "Just, you better catch me if I fall down."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from HotGoatCheese: slammed into the wall + Jon/Tim.

He shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't feel like this, because it's bad and wrong and he doesn't want to be this kind of person. But Tim can't quite bring himself to care, right now, while he's forcing Jon to retreat up against the wall as Tim keeps advancing.

Jon can make him stop, he knows. Can order him to stop, can force him to say and do things he doesn't want. But that's an excuse. That's an excuse, because the truth is that Tim is out of control, and Tim wants to scare Jon, make Jon feel the cold twisting fear and omnipresent disgust that Tim has been living with for months. Jon, sitting in his office with that damned tape recorder, doesn't feel trapped. Tim's going to make him feel trapped. Maybe then Jon will understand how badly Tim needs to get out.

Jon is pressed up against the wall, trying to get further away despite the solid structure of the Institute behind him. Tim feels powerful, and it's a welcome change after feeling so powerless. Physically, he can still intimidate Jon.

"Tim, what, why," Jon is asking, and Tim feels a pang of guilt in his chest. Jon isn't asking with his new Archivist powers, which is almost definitely deliberate. But then Tim remembers how fucking manipulative Jon can get, and that Jon is almost certainly trying to make him falter.

"This is your fault," Tim says, too much of a growl to really be conversational. "This is your fault. You could have fixed it. You could stop Elias from doing all this shit. You could if you wanted to. But you don't want to, you want to use that Archivist shit to _make_ people do what you want. You _like_ having that power, just like Elias does. Don't you, Jon?"

He's stabbing a finger into Jon's chest, and at the end, as he asks Jon that rhetorical question, he grips the front of Jon's shirt. It's maybe not as effective and terrifying as it could be, because Tim is about three inches shorter than Jon, but he's angry enough to not care. "Don't you, Jon?" he repeats, louder, and pushes him backward, hard.

Jon's head hits the wall with an audible thud. It's not hard, but Jon flinches, and Tim bites down on the guilt trying to swallow his heart, because this isn't Jon. This is the Archivist, not Jon, because Jon isn't like this. 

"Tim," Jon says, swallowing hard, "Tim. Please, let go and we'll sit down and talk about this."

And Tim wants to. He wants to, and he lets his grip loosen for a second, because maybe he can talk some sense into Jon and make him turn away from the Archivist, because that sounds like Jon and not like a monster, because Jon sounds reasonable. 

But that's just for a second. Once Jon finishes speaking the fragile spell shatters, and Tim remembers that talking is how this mess happened in the first place. He slams Jon against the wall again, harder, once, twice, and he wants so badly to continue. 

But he doesn't. He doesn't, and he lets go of Jon, white noise filling his ears from who-knows-where, and slams the door of the office shut on his way out.


End file.
